


Rolling In The Deep

by Danagirl623



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: This is for the Armanda prompt for May. This is technially my second piece for it. My first one is being handwritten at work between patients.John coughs up violets. They mean loyalty.A huge SHOUT OUT to TigStripe for checking the dialog for John Diggle (who writes fabulous Tolivarry)Another huge SHOUT OUT to FourCornersHolmes for convincing me to write two prompts. (Ok, convincing me is a bit strong. They threw a temper fit about someone else dying and demanded I fixed it. Love you <3<3<3)comments and kudos are appreciated. Thank you so much for reading this!





	Rolling In The Deep

John Watson ripped into the refrigerated box pulling his medication out of his packaging. He threw the box into the trash, before he went into the bedroom. He dug through his med kit for an alcohol pad. He threw his medication onto the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped it to the side, and glanced up in the mirror. The skin on his chest and sides were covered with pale skin interlaced with darker skin. He ran his fingers over it, and noticed darker vine marks starting to show. He sighed, knowing that his disease was very firmly in Stage Three now.

 

 _Well, nothing to be done for that,_ John thought as, he went back to the bed to retrieve his injection. He ripped open the alcohol pad and swiped it across his skin. He pinched skin together and let the alcohol dry.

 

John held the auto-injector in his dominant hand before he pulled the cap off with his teeth. He looked down at the site he picked and quickly injected the medication into his skin. He spit the cap out, and bit his lip.

 

“John!” a deep velvety voice surprised John as he pulled the needle out of his skin.  “Who doesn’t love you?”

 

John laughed, as he carefully retracted the needle on his medication. “Oh, this? This is old.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

“How could I possibly lie to you?” John asked, throwing the empty auto-injector in the trash. He pulled his shirt back on.

 

“You are attempting to lie currently.”

 

“No one in the history of the world has successfully lied to you, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

 

The tall thin man crossed the room in two steps, and was tugging at John’s shirt. “Take it off. I need to see.”  

 

John twitched away from the man, and skirted around him to go into the living room. He had no reason to be in this room, but he had to get away from his roommate. John went back to the door frame, before he stated, “Sherlock, do you have any cigarettes?”

 

“Of course I do,”  Sherlock answered, as he turned to face John. John’s eyes scanned the room behind his roommate noticing some of his things were out of place.

 

“Snooping? You know that’s a bit not good,” John said, with a disappointed look.

 

“You’re keeping secrets from me.”

 

“A man is entitled to secrets. Let’s go smoke a fag and you can deduce me,” John promised.

 

Sherlock glanced him over, and must have liked something he saw before he stalked out to the attached porch. John grabbed a jumper and pulled it over his head. Sherlock had two cigarettes lit and John slid his hand against Sherlock’s to grab his cigarette. A rapid thump of his heart, a painful tightening of his chest, and a bit of a wheeze happened all at once as John placed his cigarette between his lips.

 

“It’s obvious that you have Hanahaki disease.You don’t have to be an expert to see that,” Sherlock pointed out as he took a deep draught on his cigarette.

 

“Luckily for you, I am the expert on it.”

 

“It’s not a joke, John. You’re dying.”

 

“It’s only death, Sherlock. It won’t hurt me a bit.”

 

Sherlock didn’t respond to that comment, and plowed on, “I’d say stage three judging by your skin, but you aren’t coughing, or wheezing. Given your weight, and your height, you must have doubled the dose. That explains why you’ve been so active lately.”

 

John laughed, exhaling the cigarette smoke in a puff of smoke. “I just decided I’m stage three today.”

 

“So by doubling the medication, that means the onset of this happened within the last year-”

 

“Sherlock, can’t you just enjoy the view? Look at the mountains, the little houses.” John waved his hand holding the cigarette.

 

“Just smoke your cigarette,” Sherlock instructed with a bit of smirk.

 

John nudged Sherlock with a smile, and took a deep inhale of his cigarette. John’s lungs spasmed at the slight touch. “Have you ever been in love, Sherlock?”

 

“Yes, once,” Sherlock smiled brightly at John. “I still am and I know for a fact he loves me too, because I don’t have flowers in my lungs.”   


“Lucky sod.”

 

“Yes, well, he’s rather oblivious though. Graham says I shouldn’t call him stupid, because he’s not. He’s clever and handsome.”

 

“Does he have a big dick?” John asked, exhaling a puff of smoke, and putting his cigarette out on the ashtray. He held his hand out to Sherlock in a silent plea for another. Sherlock gave him the pack and a lighter. A slight brush of fingers against palm caused John to start coughing.

 

“I believe you already know he has a big one.”

 

“So who’s the lucky guy? Homeless Bill?” John asked, tucking Sherlock’s lighter back into Sherlock’s trouser pockets.  John held his breath until he was clear of the other man so he wouldn’t breathe his scent in.

 

“No, not Billy.”

 

“Greg?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Greg Lestrade-”

 

“Oh, he’s secretly fucking Mycroft. I have no time for him.”

 

“Must be Angelo.” John leaned against the railing and looked out over the small hamlet below them.

 

“It’s John Watson, you idiot.”

 

Startled, John dropped his cigarette, and turned to Sherlock.“But I’m John Watson!”

 

“Yes, you are,” Sherlock chuckled watching the cogs in John’s brain turn.

 

“But….” John tried, staring at Sherlock, hoping that he wasn’t lying or joking.

 

“I, Sherlock Holmes,  love you, John Watson.”

 

The words hung in the air, and John stared at the brunet mystery in front of him. Finally he snapped, “Don’t be a horse’s arse. You don’t love me. You’re married to your work. You told me so that night at Angelo’s.”

 

Sherlock smiled brightly at the fond memory. “Ah, that was a bit of gay panic that was.”

 

“Gay panic? What are you talking about?”

 

Sherlock cleared his throat. “It’s when a closeted gay man is being asked really personal questions by his dream man.”

 

“That sounds normal.”

 

“You’re the doctor, John.”

 

“Really, me?”

 

“Tell me, is it easier to breathe?”

 

John nodded, after taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

 

“I thought I had made it abundantly clear.”

 

“Clear? How was any of what’s happened over the last year screamed “I’m in love with you”? Educate me,” John demanded. “I need tea.”

 

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Oh do use your brain! It is the new sexy afterall,” Sherlock said, as a decision was made in his mind.“Let’s get you tea, because I intend to shag you stupid tonight.”

 

John eyed Sherlock warily, but padded into the small kitchen. John set about making tea, while Sherlock disappeared to make a private phone call.

 

A few minutes later, the lads met back up in John’s bedroom where he was sitting at the little work desk sipping tea. Sherlock sat at the other chair in the little table. He picked up his own teacup taking a sip of hot tea. He sighed blissfully, as he replaced his teacup on the table.  “You must have some questions.”

 

“Oh yeah, loads,” John agreed, as he’s sipping his tea.

 

“So?”

 

John sighed, then placed his teacup down. He fixed his roommate with a stern look. “When did you figure it out?” John asked, as he ran his fingertip around the lip of his cup.

 

“Ten days ago. That’s why I suggested Switzerland.”

 

John scoffed, leaned back, and crossed his arms. “So that’s what that little ‘wellness check’ bullshit was about the other day.”

 

“My lungs felt tight. I thought I was growing buds.”

 

“Listen here, Princess ‘Lockie. That’s not how it goes. You’re-”

 

Sherlock gasped, shocked. “I’m no princess. I’m tough.”

 

“So now what, Holmes? You confess to loving me, and then what?”

 

“It’s obvious. We shag.”

 

“That’s not spot on,” John said, picking up his tea cup.

 

“John, I have a plan that involves me going away for awhile. I need help in enacting it. I would like your help.”

 

“So ask for my help.”

 

“John, will you please help me accomplish my goal?”

 

John took a sip of his tea, thinking before he asked, “What is your goal?”  

 

"I need your help faking my death. It needs to appear as though I've fallen into the Reichenbach Falls and drowned."

 

John glared at him, as he processed what Sherlock was saying “So you need me to help you fake your death, so what? So you can disappear?”

 

Sherlock swallowed hard, shaking his ‘no’ “Ah, no. I need to dismantle Moriarty’s network, because if I don’t…” Sherlock trailed off, and got lost in his head. John let him get lost for a few minutes before he reached out to touch Sherlock’s hand gently. An apologetic look was shared between the two men, before Sherlock spoke again. “He- Moriarty told me that if I didn’t die, he would kill everyone I love.”

 

“Ah, the note that waited for us at The Crossed Keys when we arrived,” John said, his mind solving that puzzle.

 

Sherlock grinned widely. “That’s why I need your help John. You are the only person I trust to help me with this. You know me intimately.”

 

“Why not Mycroft?”

 

Sherlock laughed loudly. Soon John joined him, but his laughter ended with a coughing fit. Sherlock came over to John, and slapped his back. John spit out a few petals, violets. 

 

 _Huh. That’s new,_ John thought idly, dumping the violets on the tea tray.

 

Sherlock was fixed staring at the pile of violets on the tea tray, as he stated, “He has a brain like mine. I don’t need a worse me. I need you-”

 

John pulled Sherlock down by his lapels, and kissed him. Sherlock slumped down to his knees feeling a bit weak, clutching John’s thighs.

 

“Will you come back to me?”

 

“I’m going to try.” John stared sternly at Sherlock, who wilted before he said meekly, “Yes, John. I’ll come back to you.”

 

“So, what do I do?”

 

“Do you have contacts from the Army that can get you out of the country?”

 

“Of course I do.” John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s mussy curls, and caught the hard swallow from the man in front of him. “I’ve dreamed about doing that since I met you in Molly’s lab.”

 

“I enjoyed it.”

 

“I can tell,” John smiled fondly. “So you fake your death, I disappear, then what?”

 

“Before you disappear, I need you to swear you saw me die to the authorities, the newspapers, anyone who will ask.”

 

John nodded, continuing to run his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “I know just the guy,” John nodded, before he pulled his phone out. He dialed a number and placed it on the table on speaker. The line rang until there was a terse answer

 

“Dig.”

 

“Watson here.”

 

“Oh, hell. Is today the day for reunions or what?”

 

“I need to disappear for awhile. Do you think you could help me out with that?”

 

“My house is safer than most. Just let me know when you need a ride from the airport.”

 

“Understood,” John said, before he disconnected the phone.

 

“America,” Sherlock said, musingly. “No one will find you there.”

 

“Nope, not even Mycroft.”

 

“He’ll look for you too.”

 

John nodded, thinking and running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

“I’m not tired.”

 

“Boy, what makes you think I’m tired?” John asked, a bit sharply. A slow smile crept across Sherlock’s lips before he stood up and pulled John into the bedroom.

  
  


Three days later, the lads surfaced from their days of love-making. Sherlock had an important meeting with Jim Moriarty and it wouldn’t do to be late. Sherlock was waiting for the criminal mastermind in plain view. John was was hidden at a distance, but was able to see everything with his binoculars.

 

John laid on his stomach, and watched the confrontation. John lost his breath when it seemed for just a moment that Moriarty has succeeded in obtaining the upper hand. In the time it took for John to process what was happening, Sherlock succeeded in switching his position with Moriarty and throwing him into the falls.

 

John exhaled loudly, as he watched his love flee the scene. He steeled his nerves before he started the next part of the plan. John tried to take a deep breath, but realized that the relief that had come in the last few days was gone. John wheezed a bit, and shook his head. _The work waits._ His short lived peace was gone, and now the work must start.


End file.
